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User blog:Bane7670/Short Fiction: Supremacy
Part I : Blockade runner Howlrunner, space over Jakku, 5 years after the Battle of Yavin "General!" Yet another crewmen saluted as he passed. That was the title that, no matter how many times he was going to be called by it that day, Gram Alnin would never fully feel comfortable wearing again. He nonetheless returned the salute and continued on to the mess hall, which doubled as the rebel unit's briefing room. If he was being entirely honest with himself, Gram dreaded the notion of returning to the field as a general. It was not exactly what he had in mind when he volunteered to serve an executive role in the New Republic Command, at the time known as the Alliance High Command. Of course, that was then. For numerous reasons, things were different now. Command had the time to sort out its generals from its senators, and the Republic was getting a fresh start amidst a war. Gram thought it ironic, how the old Republic fell at the close of one war, and the New Republic started up right in the middle of another. It placed the existing commanders on a new perch with a new array of possibilities. For Gram, however, it was the same view as before. The door to the mess hall slid open, revealing the collection of worn, miscellaneous soldiers that composed the Sixty-First Mobile Infantry―Twilight Company―lining every table in the room and all facing one direction. Their eyes immediately fell on Gram and all conversation was minimized to hushed murmurs. He tried to ignore the wave of incredulity that emanated through the Force from everyone in the room. He'd grown accustomed to that much from Rebel soldiers. It was probably the first time most of them saw a Jedi, at least in person. Their knowledge of Jedi stemmed from extravagant portrayals in holodramas and folklore spun out of the Clone Wars. Gram imagined his weathered Rebel vest and trousers, still leftover from Endor, were somewhat contrary to the post-war perceptions they held. He found most eyes in the room studying the lightsaber hooked on his belt. He quickly found the unit's captain, Hazram Namir, and approached him. "General Alnin," Namir greeted, his eyes also darting briefly to the lightsaber. "Glad to have you aboard, sir." He took two steps towards him and extended a calloused hand. "We're all ready for your briefing." His handshake was firm and his expression neutral, though Gram could sense the slightest hint of reservation in him. He'd expected that much and did his best to see past it. He was the Jedi. He was supposed to be the confident one. "Very well, Captain," he replied, synchronizing his gauntlet display to the improvised holotable set up at their end of the room. He hit a control on his wrist and spoke to the entire company, "The Imps are already sending out greeting parties, so I'll keep this brief. "I am General Gram Alnin. I'll be your commander today." He hadn't intended the statement to be facetious, but heard a few snickers from the ranks. Could have been newer members vying for some levity. Could have been older members who thought of guest commanders as a joke in and of themselves. "Along with Captain Namir," he amended. "We have been tasked with securing an Imperial research facility to the northeast of the primary weapons facility on Jakku, to cut off reinforcements to the bulk of the Empire's forces here." He gestured to the holomap of their target. Not many soldiers studied the map intently. Gram guessed that holographic charts were either a luxury for units like this or they were just fancy displays that barely translated to live combat. "This depot is well-armed, even after our aerial forces came through this sector. Lot of debris between us and them. That means increased cover, but the Imps can use it to their advantage as well. We're deploying not far from where the Emancipator went down." Gram zoomed in on the target itself and nodded to the downed blockade runner, which sat as a sadistic centerpiece in the graveyard of disabled walkers and fighters that littered the desert around the depot. "Of course, before we can take the depot itself, we have to contain their numbers. There are several control points in this zone we must secure to keep the upper hand. The coordinates have already been synced with your heads-up displays." The control points were highlighted in red on the map, strategic points in the combat zone that would rout all Imperial troops in the area. They just had to get at it. Having run out of things to add, Gram said, "Any questions?" Silence at first. A few looks were exchanged. Some soldiers barely moved. One of them, a fairly young human, spoke up first. "Is there any update on the infiltration of the Inflictor?" It wasn't quite the kind of question Gram had in mind, prompting him to wonder how much of his words they had actually listened to. Fortunately, Namir answered for him. "That's got nothing to do with our mission, soldier," he barked. "Let whoever's topside worry about their mission. Keep your focus on yours! Got it?" "Yes, sir," the soldier said quietly, lowering his head. Gram awkwardly nodded in response and visually swept over the soldiers again. That was by all means the proper response to that question, but it reasserted in Gram's mind who was really in command of this group. Another man, whose species Gram couldn't place, said, "How well fortified is this target? Do we know what exactly we're up against here?" "Can't say for certain," Gram replied, almost sounding like he rushed it. "Best guess is grenades, repeating blaster emplacements, anti-personnel mines, probably a few Scout Walkers. Hard-hitting weapons, to be blunt." The man appeared to scoff. "That your guess?" Several other soldiers murmured between one another. Namir cleared his throat as a warning, but Gram met the man's eyes and said plainly, "Yes, that's my guess. You want a more concrete answer? Intel's been spotty. Expect the worse. Sound better?" Because of the man's naturally rigid face, Gram couldn't tell if he was more satisfied or spiteful with the answer. He hoped he'd imitated Namir's tone without coming off as irritable. He was a little out of practice. More silence followed. No one even whispered anything until another soldier offered a question. This one―a young woman―actually raised her hand before speaking. "Yes?" Gram called on her. "What do we do once we've secured a control point?" she asked, her strong voice betraying her petite figure. She couldn't have been older than sixteen. "Hold it at all costs," he said. "Defend it from the Imps until we break their first line of defense. Then we move on to the next one. We'll assign defenders for each point once we're on the ground so that we can hang on to them. One of them falls, the rest of our troops are left vulnerable and our larger attack force is put at risk. It's imperative we hold these control points if we are to break through to the depot." A few more moments of silence passed. "If there's nothing else?" Namir said, half to Gram, half to the company. "Then let's gear up! Get into your squads and ready for deployment. Dropships leave in ten. Move!" The soldiers stood as one and flowed towards the exits, checking supply cells and ammo as they went. Gram subtly sighed. That could have gone worse, but as he painfully remembered, it was only the beginning. * * * * * Namir finished scrubbing the carbon scoring off the barrel of his DLT-20A and reached over for its ammunition. As he did, Brand appeared in the doorway of the armory. Namir already knew what she was going to say, but gave her a nod anyway. "Your teams set then?" he asked. Brand being Brand, she skipped the small talk and cut to the chase. "I'm fine. How are you doing? You gonna be okay with this?" Namir grunted. "Not a lot that matters at this point." "Oh, it matters," Brand replied firmly. "It matters because your company needs their captain's confidence when going into battle." Captain. It'd been at least a year now and the rank still didn't sound right to Namir. He heard it all the time in his military history, but never paired with his own name or used in reference to himself. He always associated "Captain" with higher-ups. Now he was one. Now, even Brand was recognizing his position. Brand, the one who put authority over rank, the one who broke formation nearly every deployment, the one who held Captain Howl at gunpoint and then shared a drink with him less than a year later. When she pulled rank... it put Namir on edge. "I've got as much confidence as ever," he said, keeping his nose in his rifle. "Are you having doubts, sergeant?" "Not in you," she said evenly. "Not even in our fearless leader, Master Jedi Alnin. Just in how well those two will balance." "It's a new experience for all of us," Namir admitted. "I've never been big on the Jedi myself, but this one's good. I looked up his file: he was a respected General during the Clone Wars, knew what he was doing. Got his men through some pretty nasty engagements, nasty as they come, with record-low casualties at that." "I know what the file says," Brand said. "What do you say?" Namir finally looked up at her and barked, "I say he's our commander on this mission and so does command!" He knew what she was doing. She could sense his misgivings about serving with a Jedi, no matter how hard he pushed them down. His doubts weren't much, but Brand knew that pushing them under wasn't healthy. The sooner he faced them, the more capable (and comfortable) he would be in leading his troops. Or so she thought. "Since when do you agree with command?" she asked. "Since I became the kriffing captain!" Namir shouted, disregarding the other Twilight soldiers in the armory with him. Brand didn't flinch―it wasn't the first time he'd snapped at her―but she looked down and went quiet. Namir lowered his voice and tried to even things out. "I've got nothing for or against Alnin. I can't speak for the rest of Twilight even if it's my job. All I can say about his command is that he's what we've got. Same as any other field equipment, we work with what we've got." Brand stayed quiet for another few seconds, then straightened up and nodded. "We make it work," she murmured. There was a sobering truth behind those words, but neither of them had time to think about it. Namir sighed and reached across the bench he was sitting on. "Leaders change, Brand," he said. "Units, armies, even governments. But orders stay the same. We follow them. That's how Twilight lives on." He grabbed Brand's sniper rifle and passed it to her. She smirked ever so subtly as she took it. "Yes, I'm fine. Now let's get to work." * * * * * The dropships were loaded and ready by the time Namir reached the Howlrunner's vehicle bay, as were Twilight Company's soldiers. Gram stood near the door equipped only with his lightsaber and a bandolier, surprisingly. Namir couldn't imagine why the Jedi needed that extra gear, but decided not to ask about it. He'd come close to giving Brand the third degree as it was. That was enough disorderly conduct for one mission. Namir approached the airlock to the dropships with Brand at his left and Twitch just behind him to his right. He nodded to Gadren, who began ushuring newer recruits into their seats. One of the younger ones, a teenager they'd picked up on Excarga a few months back, stood just beside Alnin with a datapad. She looked like she may have been speaking with him just now, but turned attention to Namir as he approached. "Everyone's here, Captain," she reported. Namir knew that already just by glancing at the crowd, but decided to let the kid off with a nod. "Kid" was loosely defined. She'd made it through enough battles to shed her recruit status by now. She was part of Twilight. She just took some more getting used to than the other recruits and Namir knew why. She reminded him of Roach so much. No matter how much experience she had, she was still just a kid. That seemed to put Gram a little off-base too. Good thing we have that much in common. "Let's get going then," Alnin said, as calm as he looked. "We're behind schedule. I want to get down there before too much of the food is gone. You know how hungry those Special Forces folks get in battle." Scattered chuckles came from the dropships. Even Twitch grinned. Namir kept a straight face. A comedian. It was good while it lasted. Namir, Alnin and the remaining troops boarded their U-wings, detached from the blockade runner, and began a speedy descent down to Jakku. The final few minutes before deployment were what really singled out the recruits from the rest of Twilight. Some faces went pale, others looked downward, and every now and again someone began rocking in their seats. Alnin... Well, Alnin was difficult to read. He was standing next to the side doors with one hand gripping the safety rail. He was as still as could be, with the exception of his eyes. He looked like he was studying each face, jumping from one soldier to the next. Every time one of them met his eyes, he looked another way. Namir genuinely couldn't tell if it was a nervous habit or if it was normal for him. He didn't expect a Jedi to visibly show when he was on edge, but Namir couldn't help but wonder. * * * * * Namir was reading him, Gram could tell. He only made eye contact with the captain once, but he saw enough in his eyes to know. Gram was careful not to show it as he casually glanced around the U-wing's hold at the other Rebel soldiers. Every now and again, one of them stole another glance at him or his lightsaber. Gram pretended to not notice, lest they feel even more uncomfortable than they already seemed. Some of them were fairly young and most were humans. Others included the unidentified species Gram had spoken to earlier, a couple of Twi'leks (sitting on opposite ends of the hold), and a Besalisk who was missing one of his four hulking arms. The latter individual seemed to disregard Gram altogether. They all sat or stood more or less calmly during the descent, occasionally exchanging power cells and detonators. Their faces remained neutral, even the nervous ones. Gram could sense their anxiety through the Force. It emanated from them like heat from the transport's engines. Most of them were able to swallow it back, some of them to the point where they even looked bored. Namir also held a neutral expression while keeping a watchful eye over his troops. Gram thought to maybe give a last-minute reminder about the briefing, even if only to bolster the troops' confidence. But when Namir glanced at him again, Gram decided to give him only a nod. It's your squad. They'll follow your lead. Namir nodded in response and turned to the front of the cabin. The pilot, as if he had been expecting it, announced, "We'll touch down in one minute. Air support's confirmed in bound to provide cover fire." The whir of the engines changed, signifying preparation for landing. And then, for just a moment, Gram swore he heard a LAAT gunship's engines speeding up for approach. "Red light, stand by," Commander Blake said, sliding his helmet into place. Gram double took in the direction his voice came from, only to see Namir readying his rifle and repeating, "Stand by." The clicking of blasters filled the cabin as Gram shook his head. He hadn't had a flashback like that in some time. After all these years, this sequence was all too familiar. As the sandy surface of Jakku came closer through the U-wing's bay windows, the debris scattered across the desert looked less like flecks of dirt and more like recognizable components of starships and walkers. Only then did it hit him that the battle had been going for some time already. And it would only get worse. Part II : Kume Sector, Carbon Ridge, Jakku Intense heat beat down from Jakku's unforgiving sun, adding to the already-grueling temperature produced by the flames of the downed cruisers and starfighters that dotted the desert. Gram tried to ignore both and concentrate on the heat from the hail of laser fire that streaked over and past his head. Over the roar of blasters, he could hear the indistinct commands of Captain Namir scattering his squads in offensive formation. Gram already knew where he and his squads needed to go. He batted away two laser bolts with his lightsaber and motioned to the soldiers running behind him. They charged forward as he did. His troops exuded an unmistakable energy through the Force. Anxiety was replaced with grit and steely resolve. Their determination was contagious for Gram. As he ran to the battlefront with soldiers rallying behind him, he felt exhilarated, like the Empire couldn't have been more foolish to challenge such a force. The effect didn't last long. The rebel troopers pushed for the first control point and while Gram deflected all of the laser bolts that came his way, there was a staggering number of Imperials establishing defenses ahead of them. Two Stormtroopers were setting up an E-web repeater at the wreckage of the Emancipator already, with heavier weapons farther down. The blaster fire intensified. One soldier in his squad fell. Gram felt his life flicker out through the Force, giving him a familiar sense of dread. The energy coming from the soldiers all around him was fragile, like running with a tray of wine glasses. Not all of them would survive this. Immediately, as the first soldier hit the ground, the obligation to defend the rest gnawed at Gram. These men and women were his responsibility. He couldn't lead them to their deaths. He had to stop running and ensure that... No. He fought back the reflex. That wasn't how battles were won. They had to press on. Some of them would die along the way, but all of them would perish without focused leadership. Gram had to settle for some. And it made him sick. * * * * * Namir ran ahead of his squad to the first line of defilade on the ridge. His DLT-20A sprayed fire across the field, its kick pounding from the stock into his shoulder. The uneven rhythm of his firing kept him grounded, forced him to tune out the din of battle―both on the ground and in the sky―and the blistering desert heat. It felt as natural as his heartbeat. Already he was picking out strategic positions in his head from the area he could already see. He resisted the urge to glance over and check on Alnin's squad. His men in a Jedi's hands. Namir chose to push it out like the rest, instead blasting another line of Stormtroopers in his path. "Brand," he called. "You and your team, take up sniper positions near the aft of the Emancipator. Clear a path for Alnin's team to move ahead to the next control point by the time we have this one secured." "You think the Jedi will need it?" Brand asked, but complied. He stifled a rebuttal and took cover with his squad at the defilade, watching as Brand's team made their way to the rear end of the downed corvette. It was a risky move, but one he knew Brand could manage. In all honesty, Alnin would probably do their job for them. The Imps would scramble their defenses as soon as they saw a Jedi on the field. Most of their armor would be closer to the facility, not out in force just yet. For all their emphasis on... Without thinking, Namir cast a glance over at Alnin's team. The Jedi was leading the charge, his lightsaber a whirling green blur against the onslaught. His movements were... erratic. One moment he was charging straight ahead, the next he leapt in front of one part of his squad, batting blaster bolts away from them before continuing. He did it again and again. His momentum would all but collapse in a matter of seconds if he kept that up. What was the damn fool doing? Trying to defend each and every one of them? They could do that themselves! Seems what he knew of the Jedi really was true, frivolous defending rather than real leadership. A near miss against a nearby piece of debris brought Namir back to the present, reminding him of his own obligation. He blind-fired over his cover, barely hampering the crossfire, and peered over at the first control point. Troopers had reached it first but no one had dug in yet. A quick, direct strike would knock them loose. The only kind Twilight knew, at least when no Jedi was holding their hands. "Next move, sir?" Twitch asked, her pistol already venting excess heat, adding to the desert's broil. Good, pain just kept Namir further grounded. "You and Zab's squad rush the control point from the northeast. I'll cover you from here and move up when you're close. Fan out and divide their lines, then hold position for the rest of us. Don't let them sneak up on you." "Never could if they tried," Twitch affirmed, her confidence masked by deadpan wit. "Just give the word." Namir turned to the others and said, "Carver, your team sticks with me. Line them up, knock them down, and don't let them back on their feet!" A series of even more resolute responses went up from the sweating soldiers. Their courage rubbed off easily. It reminded Namir how many losing battles before this one had been won through shared willpower alone. Obstacles became nothing more than routine tasks. Glancing at Alnin again and watching the Jedi carve through the Imperial lines with Twilight's finest in tow, Namir felt a bit of that confidence return. It would be enough to win. They just had to live to see it. * * * * * Another TIE Fighter screeched overhead, raining down suppressive fire and heightening the ringing in Gram's ears. It was a suitable distraction from the heat, anyway, and he could still see their progress. Standing atop the dune just shy of the next control point, Gram deflected another volley of laserfire from the scattered Stormtroopers further down the ridge, huddled behind vehicle wreckage and defilade. The Imperial defense hadn’t wavered despite the loss of three other control points. Twilight Company had waded through their lines, forcing retreat after retreat, and the Stormtroopers still fought on. While the remnants of the Imperial fleet burned and plummetted overhead, Gram led an uphill battle through a debris-littered desert past entrenched repeaters and high-grade explosives. And somehow, they were winning. All in all, their casualties were light. The squad knew how to fill in the gaps in their line without missing a beat. Their offense never wavered for it. For every Twilight soldier they lost, ten Stormtroopers fell. A few times, Gram swore twenty troopers went down between each casualty of his squad. With this level of combat effectiveness, what did they even need him for? All it takes is one mistake... His training reminded him not to let his mind linger on fear, but he couldn't ignore the ferocity of the battle. They could win this, but it would come at a cost. It always did. Even now, he saw the battlefield on Geonosis, rocky and arid like this world, heated and ferocious like this battle, soldiers dying on his orders. The clones didn't once flinch or hesitate. They charged ahead with a mix of fear overridden steely resolve, just like Twilight Company did now. Gram felt every one of those lives. Their casualty ratios didn't matter. The Force didn't distinguish between Republic and Imperial. A life ended was a life ended. Whether he killed an enemy or gave an order that got an ally killed, it was all on him. A familiar feeling from when he similarly led the clone troopers to their deaths years ago settled over him. Watching those men die, men who would never know a life of free will, who trusted every one of his commands without hesitation... it would never get easier. Was it even worth it? Movement caught his eye. He spotted a cluster of Stormtroopers running through the burnt-out shell of a downed AT-AT, headed for the east ridge where Gadren was covering the third control point. "Troopers moving to flank point Delta, forty degrees west!" he shouted over the firefight. "Shore up the line at--" "I'm on it!" From out of nowhere, the young girl from the briefing dove from the top of the hill wielding a rocket launcher. With barely two seconds' aim, she fired a smart rocket into the AT-AT wreckage. Gram winced as several armor-clad bodies went flying. A second rocket hit dislodged and toppled a dislocated TIE Fighter wing into the pass, permanently cutting off future advances. "Clear!" she shouted with the timbre of a woman twice her age. "Forward!" he called, raising his lightsaber. "Push them off the ridge and regroup with Namir's unit!" Twilight's soldiers moved around him with the coordination of pack hunters. Gram felt a twinge of pride at their efficiency, their determination. It's what kept them alive. Maybe if he believed in them like they did... A sudden blast knocked him off his feet, sending him tumbling down a sandy slope and into a crippled walker. Staying in the moment also keeps you alive. Ending up on his back, he got a fresh perspective to the crumbling fleets in the Jakku sky. He watched the Super Star Destroyer steadily lose altitude, its engine nacelles trailing smoke on the way down, its punctured hull venting flame. Then a hulking figure towered over him. "Hey, general! You all right?" "Yeah, I think so..." Gram said, shaking the sand out of his hair. A huge Besalisk arm hoisted him back onto his feet in one fell swoop. "Look alive, general!" the Besalisk said in an oddly upbeat, gravelly voice. "We've got a war to finish!" Without flaw, the soldiers reformed their offensive line around Gram, ready to advance on his order. Gram somehow managed a smile. For all his training, all the battles he'd survived, he was still as vulnerable and powerless to war as the soldiers he commanded. At least now, he could relate. "Rally together," he said. "Let's get this done." (To be continued) Category:Blog posts